


Exit Wounds

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not really sure why I’m here,” she said defensively.</p><p>It took everything in him to stop the small smile fighting at the corners of his mouth. Textbook.</p><p>“Your superior required it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Triggery for mental health, PTSD, and similar issues

He watched as her foot tapped out an unrelenting rhythm. She hadn’t spoken the entire time they had been sitting across from each other, and had only met his eyes once before quickly looking away. She reached one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear and softly cleared her throat. Her eyes glanced at the untouched mug of tea on the table in front of her, and then she wrapped her arms around her stomach.

He subtly peeked at his watch. It had been 15 minutes. Going on an eternity. But he was more experienced than her at this, and he’d wait her out. 

“I’m not really sure why I’m here,” she said defensively.

It took everything in him to stop the small smile fighting at the corners of his mouth. Textbook.

“Your superior required it.”

_“Something happened on the mission. I don’t know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea. Whatever it was, I’m pretty sure her careful control is about to finally collapse.”_

“Yes, but I don’t know why. I’m fine. I don’t need…this.”

“OK,” he calmly replied. “So, let’s just talk.”

She stared at him warily. “About what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I don’t want to talk about anything. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“OK,” he repeated amiably. 

More silence. He began the countdown in his head, but didn’t even get anywhere near single digits before she inhaled and exhaled deeply. 

“Is anyone else supposed to meet with you? Or just me?”

“Dr. Simmons, you know I can’t answer that.”

She shrugged somewhat insolently. “I’m the closest thing most of these people have to a doctor. We can discuss their care without violating anyone’s privacy.”

“But you’re not a doctor.”

“I’ve given up trying to explain that.”

He flashed a quick, small smile. “Does that bother you, being given a responsibility you don’t want? Or aren’t prepared for?”

She tilted her head condescendingly. “Nice try.”

“Just asking.”

“I’ll do whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. needs me to.”

“Needs you to, or asks you to?”

“What’s the difference?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes we might decide something is for the best, something is needed, even if others wouldn’t agree or understand.”

_“What do you suspect?” “Bakshi didn’t survive. She knows more about that than she’s saying. But I don’t think she planned it – or at least, she didn’t plan it for him.”_

She looked off to the side. “Isn’t that what S.H.I.E.L.D. is all about? Doing the right thing? Protecting people, even from themselves?”

“Certainly.”

“Then…” she trailed off meaningfully. 

“Then maybe we’re protecting you now.”

Her face paled as she stared at him. Several seconds passed before she spoke. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

He was silent again, waiting. He watched as her expression shifted, as she swallowed thickly, as she blinked several times. 

“I’m fine,” she said again, nearly a whisper.

He leaned forward in his chair. “I don’t think you are.”

She stood up abruptly and began pacing in the small room. “I don’t have brain damage,” she pointed out. “I don’t have scary superpowers. I’m not in fragments. I’m fine.” She stopped walking and faced him. “But so many other people aren’t. And the more time I waste in here, the less help I can give them.”

_“For months now, I’ve watched her shutting down, becoming hard. Becoming…like me. I don’t want that for her. She used to – she was so full of… There’s hope for her still. There has to be.”_

He clicked his pen several times, then placed it in his pocket. “You won’t be able to help anyone unless you start to face the truth. Unless you acknowledge what happened.”

She sat down again. “What happened when?”

“On the mission,” he said patiently, knowing she was more than aware of what he was talking about.

“I’m not trying to hide anything, not really,” she said, clearly aiming for a casually straightforward tone. “I killed him. Bakshi. No one has really asked, that’s all. I didn’t intend to, but I don’t regret it.”

“Why not?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Because he would have killed me. He was a Bad Guy, and I defended myself. It was almost accidental, really. Besides, Good Guys can kill Bad Guys without feeling guilty about it.”

“And you’re a Good Guy.” The capital letters were practically visible. 

She looked off to the side again, blinking a bit rapidly. She shrugged. “S.H.I.E.L.D.’s the Good Guys. I’m S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She was a genius, and she knew as well as he did she was evading his question. A few minutes passed, and he began again.

“So what happened? You didn’t intend to kill him. What did you intend?”

She inhaled deeply and faced him again. Her face was hard and her voice steady when she answered. “To kill Ward.”

“Because he’s a Bad Guy?”

She laughed, completely without humor. “He’s a very Bad Guy. We’ll never be – the world will never be safe from him. After everything he’s done, he deserves to…”

After a very loud silence, he asked, “But you couldn’t do it?” She didn’t answer. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Dr. Simmons.”

He watched as she stood again, as she walked to the other side of the room, as she faced the wall and picked with one finger at the edge of the light switch. 

“I would have,” she said. “I just – lost the advantage. He…had a gun on me.”

“How did you feel then?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“How did you feel then?”

“I – Defiant. I tried to be brave.”

“How did you feel then?”

“I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of – ”

“Dr. Simmons, how did you feel then?”

“I wanted him to pull the trigger,” she nearly yelled, the outburst followed by a sudden gasp.

He stood up, walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her only response was to lift a trembling hand to her mouth. 

_“She has her whole life ahead of her. She’s so capable of happiness and love, and I don’t want to see her lose that. But she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. She blames herself for everything. Please, help her see that she isn’t… help her like I wouldn’t let you help me.”_

She tore away from his attempt to soothe her, walking back over to her chair. She sank into it slowly.

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I said that. I would never – it would have all been in vain.”

He walked back over and sat down opposite her again. “What would?”

She sniffed loudly, and rubbed the heel of her palm up over her nose. “Fitz,” she explained. “He saved my life. And it nearly killed him. He’ll never be the same. I would never throw that away.”

“Then why do you think you said that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know!”

He was silent again, not wanting to guide her to any conclusions or interpretations. He wanted her to find them on her own. And after a long moment, she finally looked up at him through the tears pooling in her eyes.

“I can’t keep living like this.”

“Like what?”

“Scared. Angry. Co-cold. I don’t like who I am anymore.”

He sighed, leaned forward, and took her hands in his own. “Jemma, you’ve been through a lot this last year. I don’t need to explain to you the kinds of responses trauma can produce.”

“But what if I’ve always been like this? What if it all just revealed the real me?” she asked, her eyes wide and horrified.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve – I’ve always been so…scientific. Analytical. Pragmatic. Ambitious.” She paused. “Maybe I am the kind of person who can leave people when they need me the most and tell myself it’s for their own good. Maybe I’m the kind of person who can go undercover and convince an entire evil organization I’m on their side. Maybe I am the kind of person who can – can kill someone else, practically on instinct, who can be in favor of shooting first, no questions asked, who argues for wiping out an entire – what kind of monster would _Grant Ward_ be _disappointed_ in? I’m not…”

He squeezed her hands and nodded, prompting her to continue.

“Maybe I’m not a Good Guy.”

His heart hurt at the pain in her voice and the despair in her eyes. 

This was definitely going to take more than one session.

“Jemma,” he said as firmly as he could. “Believe it or not, there is no such thing as Good Guys and Bad Guys. We’re all just human. Except Thor, obviously.”

She laughed, clearly against her will, snorting a bit through her tears. 

“And sometimes we get dealt a shitty hand, and we have to deal with that the best way we know how. We have to make our choices in life, and we have to surround ourselves with the people who love us and will help us make the best possible ones. Who will call us out when we make the wrong ones and then hold our hands as we struggle through the consequences.”

“But – ”

“But nothing. You can find your way back to the person you want to be and the person we all believe you to be. Will you let me help you? Will you let your friends help you?”

_“We can save her. It’s not too late. I won’t give up on that girl.”_

She inhaled deeply, her lips quivering with emotion. “I suppose I have to, don’t I? If Coulson ordered it.”

He smiled. “Only technically. Melinda was the one who asked me to talk to you.”

She looked up in surprise, and his smile grew wider. “I understand you’re a bit upset with her right now, but she really does want the best for you. For all of you.”

**

She looked up in surprise as Simmons entered the room, walked around the table and immediately hugged her.

She was going to have to do something about all this hugging business. It wouldn’t do to let her think she could get away with it. Worse, other people might get ideas.

She supposed she could allow it just this once, though.

“Thank you,” Simmons whispered, before her shoulders started shaking with barely restrained sobs.

She inhaled, then let the breath out slowly. “You can’t undo what’s been done,” she said softly. “That will be with you forever. But you did good too. You’ve done so much good. Let it go, Jemma. Let Ward go; let Bakshi go; just…let it all go.”

Simmons sobbed harder, and she had no idea how to respond. It was with great relief that she noticed the one person Simmons probably needed the most walking past. She waved her hand, somewhat frantically, and he spotted the movement, backing up to look through the door. His eyes grew wide when he saw them, but he took no further action.

She rolled her eyes, modifying her gesture to wave him into the room instead. He shuffled closer, pulling his hands out of the pockets of his cardigan somewhat nervously. But finally, he was close enough, and she moved, drawing upon her training to slip easily out of Simmons’ embrace and guiding her into his arms instead. 

She exhaled, shaking out her shoulders as she walked to the door of the room, assuming a stoic expression to hide her relief that she was free of the display of emotions. But, maybe, she acknowledged silently as she glanced over her shoulder on her way out of the room and saw them holding each other tight, saw her sobs starting to subside as he murmured in her ear…maybe she really was relieved for other reasons. 

Not that she’d ever admit that.

**Author's Note:**

> I just was struck with the urge to write this, and I couldn’t stop and now it’s almost 2 in the morning. Sigh.


End file.
